


Hamartia

by deltachye



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Jealousy, One Shot, Prompt Fic, Reader-Insert, every wiki entry describes him as an old man i'm wheelin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26354449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x sakyo furuichi]He knows his boundaries. Always has, always will.And yet you manage to cross them.[deltachye writing challenge 2020]
Relationships: Furuichi Sakyou/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40
Collections: Deltachye Writing Challenge 2020





	Hamartia

**Author's Note:**

> sakyo-nii... stingy ass, old ass, mean ass, stubborn ass... of course i'd be in love with you wtf. but i also snuck in my side bromance w sakoda ken bcs he is so sweet . he deserves a raise.

“Hey, look—those flowers would be real sweet for you-know-who, Aniki.”

“Sakoda, I _will_ kill you.”

It was a headache of a conversation, one he’d had a million times before, and never once willingly. He should’ve expected it after confessing his secret to his underling-slash-partner, but even he had underestimated how bad the consequences would be.

“I just don’t know why you don’t tell her how you feel!” Sakoda complained, scampering after him as he stalked away from the flower vendor, who had begun to look at him with hopeful eyes. “She’d obviously say yes!”

“Leave me alone.”

“Well, even if she didn’t say yes, you’re not a coward or anything. Are you scared the Boss would be against it? ‘Cause I’m sure he’d just want you to be happy. Actually, he was just tellin’ me that he was worried about how you aren’t seeing anybody even at your age—eep!”

Sakoda clutched his head, finally brought to a blissful silence after a well-timed karate chop. Sakyo scowled. He never should have said anything. Still, at the time, it’d felt so overwhelmingly good to finally vent his pent-up feelings that he’d gotten caught up in the moment and revealed everything.

[Name] was a woman. An average, ordinary woman who wasn’t caught up in yakuza affairs. He’d met her through Mankai as she was one of Fushimi’s classmates or something. So, that’s one of the kickers—she’s _young_. Too young, he said, even though Sakoda insisted it was okay for him to have an easy decade or so on her. Maybe it’s that generation gap (if you can call it that) that attracts him so powerfully. She’s bright, _ambitious_ , with a hunger to chase dreams. She’s got a fresh view on the world, so unlike his jaded one. He envied that.

Director Izumi had taken a grand liking to [Name] and had her over often, even after Fushimi’s project was over. It wasn’t like she was a master actor or director—actually, she wasn’t that involved in fine arts at all—they just seemed to hit it off. Girl intuition or one of those unexplained mysteries. For a while everybody thought she was dating Fushimi, but they laughed it off when somebody brought it up passingly. It was like an alarm bell had gone off: _she’s single_!

Maybe it was just that he’s been out of the game for an embarrassingly long amount of time. It wasn’t like he was looking for love when screwing around in high school, and it sure as hell isn’t easy picking up dates when you work in one of the most powerful crime syndicates in the city. It’s doubly hard to be on the market when you’re half-raising your boss’ kid. [Name] gave him real attention from a kind, unbiased eye. She saw him for him instead of ‘the mafia guy’. She praised him for movie recommendations and gave him meaningful discussion about film; she’d drop by with bubble wrap, a glimmer in her eye; she borrowed his books without even asking sometimes. She was infuriatingly beautiful. Wit sharper than glass. He hadn’t felt that way about somebody in a long time.

But he knew his boundaries. He always had, always would. It didn’t matter how he felt, and it certainly didn’t matter how she felt about him, either. She had a colourful life ahead of her. There was no need to get tripped up by a cranky old man who had a passing crush. He felt sick at the thought— a _crush_. How awfully juvenile. He’d committed himself to that. He had accepted it.

But the world has a way of disrupting your perfect plans.

“Thanks for comin’ to pick me— _hic_!—up… wait a sec.” She peered through the window, so red-faced she looked like a boiled lobster rather than herself. “Sakyo-san?”

“Yes, it’s me,” he replied stiffly, drumming his fingers on the wheel. “You called. I answered.”

“Oh, shit.” She pulled her phone out and squinted at the screen blearily. “Whoops…”

He sighed. “I already figured you called the wrong person. It’s fine. Get in; I’ll take you home.”

She shook her head adamantly. “I called because I wanted to go to my friend’s house, not my place.”

The strange wording caught his attention. “Why can’t you go back to your dorm?”

She bit her lip, hard, and it was clear he’d blown up a land mine without meaning to. Once again, he scowled, but reached over to open the passenger door.

“Okay, fine. Get in. It’s cold.”

She was drunk out of her mind. He’d never seen her like this. Her head kept dipping forwards before she jerked it back up, cycling through attempts to stay awake. It wasn’t his place to be chastising her on her lifestyle, but his hand surreptitiously gripped the wheel tighter than he had to.

“Where does your friend live?”

“He lives, uh…”

It was like an astringent had washed over him, tightening everything up. ‘He’? Before she could say anything else, he blurted out, “what if I just took you back to the Mankai dorms for tonight?”

“What?” She stared at him. He stared back with the same confusion. Why had he said that? Scrambling to pick up his tracks, he continued hastily.

“It’s close. Besides, Fushimi will take care of you tomorrow morning.”

“Oh yeah. Omi is totally a mom.” She laughed to herself, practically giggling. “’Kay. Thanks, Sakky.”

 _Sakky_? He almost regretted that she wouldn’t remember any of this by tomorrow.

“Oi, this is good,” she slurred, pointing at the radio. “You got _great_ taste. Have I ever told you that?”

It was an old CD of jazz he’d picked up a while ago. He nodded, figuring he might as well keep her entertained since something clearly wasn’t right. It wasn’t in character for her to be getting fucked up on weekdays. When she’d phoned, he had half a mind to just send Fushimi or somebody else she really knew to pick her up. After all, she was calling him by the wrong name and was clearly expecting somebody else. But he came anyways. It didn’t sit right with him, and it still didn’t feel good—because it felt _too_ good to be the one to swoop in during her time of need.

After he parked and opened her car door, she wobbled on her feet before sinking to her knees. “You’re not seriously too plastered to walk, are you?” he chastised. She reached her hand out petulantly.

“Help me.”

As if he could say no. He made a big deal of rolling his eyes but took her hand, hauling her up. It was small, the heat from her palm almost uncomfortable. She seemed to be swinging his hand as they walked together, but he chalked it up to her being unable to walk in a straight line.

He brought her to his room. It was the only single and he could live with boarding up in the main hall for a night. Sakoda shouldn’t have been home since he’d kicked him out before leaving—but the world has a way of disrupting your imperfect plans too, apparently.

“Ken!” she cried, practically flinging her arms around him. Sakoda looked just as bewildered as Sakyo felt.

“H-hey, [Name]-chan… Aniki said he was picking you up, but, uh…”

“Did I ever tell you that yer’ really cute?” she slurred, ignoring his nervousness despite it practically coming off of him in waves. “I really like your hair. Can I touch it?”

“Um, actually, I don’t think—”

“I wanna.”

Even if he wasn’t being broadcasted the ‘help me’ eye signals, Sakyo pulled her off of him, promptly shoving her into the bed. “That’s enough. Go to sleep.”

“ _You_ suck,” she retorted, and he couldn’t help but be mildly wounded. She struggled to sit up and glowered at him. “I just got dumped, you _jerk_.”

“Oh.” An awkward pressure that was very Sakoda shaped hit him in the back. “I’m… sorry.”

“Well, it’s okay. I didn’t really like him that much anyways…” She said that, but there were tears shaping up in her eyes. He froze. Dealing with crying people wasn’t his thing.

“I’ll go get you a glass of water,” he said promptly, quickly excusing himself (aka, secured an escape route). He hissed at Sakoda on his way out. “Keep an eye on her.”

“A-ah, yessir!”

Getting dumped and shaking your sorrows with shots. It’s just part of the young adult experience. He couldn’t blame her; though he never did. It was always himself that he directed his pathetic miseries to.

When he finally got back with the cup of tap water, he nearly dropped it on the floor. Somehow, she had roped Sakoda into the bed with her, clutching the fabric of his jacket as she cried openly.

“Why doesn’t anybody like me?” she all but wailed. “What’s wrong with me?”

“W-why don’t we ask Aniki here?!” Sakoda wheezed, struggling to pry her hands off of him. He shot Sakyo the most apologetic, guilty look he’d ever made. If only he’d be this sorry about his actual work. Sakyo placed the glass down and freed Sakoda, unfurling her fingers and winding them into his instead. He still wasn’t used to how small they were in his hands. She glanced up in surprise, sniffling snottily. Turning to Sakoda, he issued a cool warning:

“Get out.”

“Sir yes sir!” Sakoda scurried off, obviously relieved. He did a 180 halfway through his getaway to shut the door behind him, having forgotten. Then his footsteps faded away down the corridor until it was just her and him.

“Are you finished?” he asked testily. [Name] was struggling to calm down, swiping her tears from her cheeks with her hands. Her expression was defiant as she scowled at a corner. He held out a handkerchief he kept in her pocket. For a moment she stared at it, probably debating if she should take it or not, but she ended up accepting it before he could scold her for being a brat. He mourned its loss as she messily blew her nose into it.

“I’m sorry. I’m just kinda bummed.”

“Why?” He sat in the bed beside her. It wasn’t like he was a therapist, and he was hardly good at listening to all that touchy-feely shit, but he had a strange desire to be there for her.

“I mean, you ever like somebody you know you can’t get with? So you just keep trying to replace them, but…” She stared down at the folded cloth in her hands. Her hair was messy. Her clothes were askew. Her face was patchy and red, her eyes wide and glassy, and he suddenly felt such a strong surge of emotion that he felt he would never love anybody else the same.

“Listen to me.” It was like his body was moving and once again, he couldn’t stop. Maybe he didn’t want to stop himself anymore. Fluidly, she slipped underneath him like silk against silk as he climbed over her. She stared up at him, her lips parting into a surprised ‘o’.

“Sakyo-san…?”

“You belong to me and only me.”

If she hadn’t been all over Sakoda, or if he wasn’t sure if she’d forget, he might never have said it at all. But the blood running through his veins was very much hot, very much of a man, and all humans are cursed with hamartia. His voice hardened further when he saw a flicker of something murky in her clear, teary eyes.

“So don’t cry over other men. Don’t even bother with other men. You’re _mine_.”

He backed off after that. It wouldn’t be right to do anything more; not when she was this out of it. He had to get out of here and cool his head. He hadn’t lost it like that in years. But before he could leave, he felt a tug on his jacket and realized she’d gripped onto his sleeve.

“That made me really happy,” she breathed, head bowed so her hair masked her expression. “Sakyo-san.”

“Okay. So, go to bed.”

“Are you still gonna be here when I wake up?”

He didn’t know what to say. He’d already said too much, hadn’t he? But the way she was looking at him didn’t have any disgust in it, none of the kind he felt for himself—only pure, raw, unadulterated affection.

“Do you want me to be?”

She nodded eagerly. “You said I’m yours, didn’t you?

He picked her hand off his coat and squeezed it, chuckling softly. He wanted to kiss the fingers. He wanted nothing more—but he didn’t. He could afford to wait until tomorrow, first. He’d wait forever for her if he had to.

“Then I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> JEALOUSY  
> 3\. B hasn’t been able to confess to A and would rather keep it that way. A gets a little too close to C (whether it was on purpose or by accident) and B finally snaps.  
> 4\. “You belong to me and only me.”  
> [Writing Challenge](https://deltachye.tumblr.com/post/628009485284311040/deltachye-writing-challenge-2020)


End file.
